


Revenge

by Bluewolf458



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen, Sentinel Thursday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 12:04:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7757179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluewolf458/pseuds/Bluewolf458
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A model shop has been vandalised</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sentinel Thursday prompts 'trash' and 'hate'

Revenge

by  Bluewolf

Alvin Stalker, principal of the police academy in Olympia, had been willing to accept Blair as a 'weapons only' trainee. However, Blair decided that taking more than just weapons training might be a good idea, and a short period on Patrol would do no harm, since he had no experience of the routine day to day work the cop-on-the-street handled.

Blair would have to live in the police barracks in Olympia, and having given the matter some thought, he suggested Joel as a good temporary partner for Jim. And even once he was home again and living with his sentinel, there would be that short period in Patrol - possibly three months - although life for both Jim and Joel would probably be easier then, because Jim would have exposure to his permanent guide for at least some of each day.

***

Blair enjoyed his time at the Academy more than he had expected to, although he missed Jim.

On his first day back at the PD, Blair's starting time was a little earlier than Jim's, but Jim followed him as he drove to the station. They parked side by side and headed for the elevator together.

Blair had to stop at Reception to report in; Jim went on up to Major Crime.

At Reception, Sergeant Wallace grinned cheerfully at Blair. "Official now, right, Blair?"

"Well, I was always sort of semi-official," Blair replied. "I just didn't get a pay packet."

Wallace chuckled, then reached for his internal phone.

"Wallace, Captain. Officer Sandburg is reporting for duty... Yes, sir." He hung up. "You know where to go, Blair."

"Thanks, Lew. I'd better move - wouldn't do to be late on my first day!" He strode back to the elevator. He had to wait a minute till it arrived, the door sliding open to allow half a dozen detectives to exit.  All had a grin or word of greeting for Blair.

He paused for the briefest of moments at Captain Palmer's door, then knocked.

"Come."

As Blair entered, he registered that Palmer seemed quite happy to see him.

"Ah, Officer Sandburg."

"Yes, sir." It seemed only polite to acknowledge Palmer's comment, even though it was a statement rather than a question.

"I think you know Officer Carling?"

Blair turned his attention to the man sitting facing Palmer, and smiled. "Yes, sir."

"You'll be partnered with him until you pass the detective's exam."

Blair frowned slightly. "Has something happened to Officer Tarrant?"

Palmer let Carling answer. "He had a displaced sub-orbital hip fracture three weeks ago - needed a partial hip replacement. He needs at least another eight or nine weeks before he can consider returning to duty, possibly longer, though I know he's working hard with the physiotherapist to get himself fully fit again."

"How? What happened?" Blair didn't know Bob Tarrant well, but well enough to feel some concern.

"He was on his way home after work. He lives on a narrow street, has to park his car about a hundred yards from his house and walk from there. Couple of his neighbor's kids were playing, ran out of their garden just as he reached their gate, bumped into him and he went down awkwardly; his hip hit the curb, and... " Carling shook his head with a sigh.

"Nasty," Blair said.

"Anyway, Tarrant's misfortune is your lucky day," Palmer said. "I don't want to give Carling a partner who could be considered potentially long term - he and Tarrant are a good team - and I understand you're only with us until you pass the next detective exam?"

Blair smiled apologetically. "The thing is, although I was really only an observer, Jim Ellison and I were partnered for four years, and while I do want a little Patrol experience... "

"He wants you back as soon as possible," Palmer finished. "Don't worry, I understand. Right, then, you two - on the road. Our work might not be as newsworthy as Major Crime's, but in its own way it's just as important."

"Yes, sir," Blair said as he turned to follow Carling out of Palmer's office.

***

"Have you ever thought of trying for Detective?" Blair asked as Carling eased the patrol car out of the garage and turned to drive towards their patrol area.

"Not seriously," Carling replied. "I enjoy patrol work, and I'm not sure I'd like the responsibility that being a detective entails. No matter how careful a detective is... there are always cases you hear of when an innocent man has gone to prison simply because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and the evidence seemed to point straight at him."

Blair nodded. "I hear that," he said. "And someone could be as guilty as it's possible to be, and he'll still say. 'Who, me? I'm a law-abiding member of society. I wouldn't think of doing that'... You need an instinct for telling when someone is lying."

"And from what I hear, Jim Ellison has that?"

"Yes."

"It goes with his being a sentinel, I suppose."

"Denny - "

"Don't worry, Blair. In the first place, a lot of us have seen him in action - and he isn't as careful about hiding what he can do as he thinks he is. In the second place... You had to say what you did to kill the media attention Ellison was getting in the Bartley case, didn't you. Well, we understand that. Nobody will make a big thing of it, but we understand."

"Do you understand why we had to keep it secret?"

"If the bad guys found out..."

"Yes."

The radio burst into life. "459 reported at 1943 Second Avenue."

Carling nodded to Blair, who reached for the mic. "Victor 3-8 responding."

Carling didn't bother with lights or siren. "That's a shop address," he said. "At this time of day, I'd say that the owner went to open his shop and discovered he'd been burgled overnight. In any case, we're very close."

Blair nodded, filing the information away in the corner of his mind that held casual info that might be useful some day.

Within two minutes of receiving the call, Carling pulled up outside 1943 Second Avenue; the sign above the shop said 'Mason's Models'. The door was open, and Carling led the way in, his hand hovering over his gun.

Blair gasped in horror as he paused in the doorway.

The place had been completely trashed.

Models of all kinds were smashed on the floor, boxes holding model kits ripped open and the contents thrown all over, paint was splattered all over the walls and floor, boxes of small components like screws had been emptied... shelving units smashed... there was no way any of the contents of this shop could be salvaged.

A woman was leaning against the counter, tears streaming down her face. The man beside her straightened as the two cops entered and turned towards them. There was no disguising the anger on his face.

"Mr. Mason?" Carling asked.

"Yes."

"Officers Carling and Sandburg. What can you tell us?"

"When we came to open the shop this morning, we found that the door had been smashed in - it was propped up so at a casual glance it would look as if it was properly shut. Inside... " He gestured around. "This."

"You'll no doubt think this is a stupid question, and I'd agree with you, but it's a routine one we have to ask. Do you know if there's anything missing?"

Mason looked at him, looked around the trashed interior of the shop and looked back at Carling. "Half of what was in the shop could be missing and I wouldn't know - not with everything scattered like that."

"I know," Carling said. "Stupid question, whoever thought it necessary to be asked."

Blair had been looking around. "Mr. Mason - have you recently had someone come in, suggesting that if you were to pay him so much a week he'd make sure you didn't have any trouble with... say... vandals? Someone you told to get lost?"

Mason shook his head. "I haven't." He looked at his wife. "Claire?"

"No," she managed.

"Or anyone recently you'd - say - asked to leave because although he was looking around it was obvious he had no intention of buying anything?"

"No."

Blair looked around again. "Whoever did this was carrying a lot of anger," he said slowly. "Maybe even hate. Can you think of anyone...?"

"No," Mason said.

"Models like those - " Blair indicated the bits covering the floor - "aren't an interest of mine, so I don't know... Is there another big model shop in Cascade?"

"No," Mason repeated. "My brother runs one in another part of the city, but it's smaller; he specializes in the kind of model kit children would buy. I don't carry that, I aim more for the adult market. There's no competition - we direct business to each other."

"So there's no rivalry between you?"

"None. We're very good friends."

"Do you leave much money in the shop overnight?" Blair knew he should leave the questioning to Carling, the senior in the car, but he knew the kind of questions Jim would ask, and Carling didn't seem to mind that he had taken over.

"No," Mason replied. "I don't even leave a float in the till. Oh, some of the shop owners do - they close at 8, 9 o'clock, they're tired, so they leave the coins in the till, put the paper money into a box and lock it away somewhere - might be in a safe, might just be in a drawer under the counter - and tally everything up in the morning when it's quiet and they can take the money straight to the bank. I take everything home, where I have a hidden safe, and bring the float back with me in the morning. And while it might be silly keeping much money at home, on Monday or Tuesday my wife takes the previous week's money to the bank. She doesn't work in the shop either day because they're both pretty quiet, and she varies the time she leaves the house, goes to the bank when she's doing her shopping."

"So it's possible that whoever did this was hoping to find some money, and trashed the place when he found that there wasn't any, no matter where he looked?" Carling asked.

Blair stepped back, leaving Carling to continue the questioning, pulled out his cell phone and hit speed dial one.

/Blair?/

"Hi, Jim. Talk about being thrown in at the deep end... My new Patrol partner and I responded to a 459 not long after we started work this morning - 1943 Second Avenue. It's a hobby shop. The place has been totally vandalized, and the owner won't be able to salvage anything. No obvious reason. There hadn't been an offer of 'protection', nobody the owner thought might be 'casing the joint'; none of the neighboring shops seem to have had a problem, though we still need to speak to them, and I'm wondering if it's something personal. Think you could persuade Simon to let you come and have a look?"

/Taking a shortcut by contacting me direct, huh?/

"You're Mr. Mason's best chance of discovering who it was."

/Okay, Chief. I won't be long./

Blair closed the phone and turned his attention back to Carling and Mason.

Their conversation now seemed to consist of the purely routine questions Patrol had to ask before reporting back, so he turned his attention to Mrs. Mason. She seemed to have pulled herself together now that he and Carling were there and something was 'being done' about the situation.

"Hello, Mrs. Mason. I noticed your husband asked if anyone had approached you about 'protection', as if there had been times when he wasn't here - are you often here on your own?"

"Only if John has gone out for any reason. For example, there was a craft fair in Tacoma last month - he went to it, because although we get regular visits from various salesmen, he likes to see new items that are about to come on the market, and discuss them with the firms' representatives. Mostly I'm here in case the shop's busy, or if he wants something from the stockroom - Oh, God! The stockroom... We didn't check it... " She sounded to be on the verge of tears again.

Blair swung around, interrupting the owner's conversation with Carling. "Mr. Mason - your wife just mentioned the stockroom - "

Mason drew in a sharp breath. "You think - "

Blair looked at his partner; Carling nodded. "I think we need to check it before we make a report - "

Blair said quietly, "There's already a detective on his way."

"Ellison?"

"If this was just a burglary, even one that didn't net the criminals any cash, why cause so much damage? This says hate crime to me."

"You could well be right," Carling said. "All right, Mr. Mason - the stockroom."

Blair glanced at Mrs. Mason. "You stay here," he said. "If Detective Ellison arrives before we come back, tell him where we are." He turned and followed the other men.

The stockroom door was closed, and Mason reached to open it. "Wait!" Blair said. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a latex glove, and grinned, without humor, at the expression on Carling's face. "Four years riding with Ellison, remember." He pulled the glove on and opened the door.

Inside was the same scene of total devastation that they had seen in the main shop.

Mason looked at it, and groaned. "I'm ruined," he said. "Insurance will cover some of it, of course, but my main insurance was for fire, earthquake, flood or accidental damage. I never thought to specify vandalism."

"Sandburg?"

Blair turned to meet the sentinel. "The stockroom is trashed too, Jim."

Jim looked at the open door. "Was the door open like that?"

Blair held up his gloved hand. "I was very careful. If there are any prints that shouldn't be there on the handle, I'm quite sure I didn't smudge them."

Jim nodded as he walked forward. "Hello, Carling - Blair's been teamed with you? Welcome to the Sandburg Zone."

Carling grinned briefly, then, seriously, "This is Mr. Mason, the owner. Detective Ellison, sir."

"Mr. Mason," Jim acknowledged, then moved forward to look into the storeroom. "Sandburg said nobody has offered you 'protection'?"

"That's right."

"What about the other shops in the area?"

"Not that I know of. But if someone approached them, why target me?"

"As an example. The other shops could be seen as a more lucrative prospect... your shop is a very specialized one, and they might consider that you wouldn't be able to afford much in protection money before it swallowed up all your profits and you had to close. Gangs like that are greedy, but they're also looking at the long term; years rather than months."

Jim looked closely at everything. but could see nothing that would help to identify the vandals.

***

A visit around the neighboring shops also proved abortive; none of them had been approached by anyone offering anything that could remotely be considered 'protection'.

"Just looking at the damage made me think it was personal," Blair said after they returned home that night, "but Mr. Mason says the only other model shop in Cascade is run by his brother, they're not in direct competition because they cater for a different age range and that they're good friends."

Jim nodded. "It certainly looks that way, but neither he nor Mrs. Mason belong to any of the groups usually targeted by hate criminals. They're white, Christian, American-born, safely heterosexual and married rather than 'living in sin'... so who would target them?"

"You went to see the brother after you left us, didn't you?"

Jim laughed. "You know me so well... "

"Think Mason was right? There's no animosity there?"

"None. He was honestly horrified when I told him what had happened. He agreed that selling models isn't a high profit business - 'We make a reasonably comfortable living but can't afford to live the high life,' he said. And he couldn't think of anyone who would want to harm his brother. I’ll have another look around the place tomorrow when there's nobody else around - "

"Jim... " Blair hesitated.

"Joel's managing to keep me on track," Jim assured him.

"I know. But there's something I have to tell you. According to Denny Carling, pretty well everyone at the station knows you're a sentinel."

Jim stared at him. "Everyone? How?"

"Denny's words were 'A lot of us have seen him in action - and he isn't as careful about hiding what he can do as he thinks he is.'... and that everyone understood why it had to be kept secret, why I denied it all. We don't need to change how we behave around everyone - but I have a feeling that a lot of them would feel quite honored if you showed you trusted them to keep quiet when you were using your senses."

"Okay. Tomorrow, you and Carling go straight to Mason's shop - Joel and I will join you there and I'll go over the place again."

***

In the morning, Joel stood back with Carling while Blair shadowed Jim as he prowled around the wrecked shop. He hadn't long begun, however, when one of the officers on duty outside the shop came in. He crossed to Joel, knowing that he was the senior officer there.

"We've had a call from Major Crime - Mr. Mason has gone in with his son, and Captain Banks wants you and Detective Ellison back there."

"Thanks. Jim!"

It was Blair who responded. "Joel?"

"Jim and I have to go back to the PD. Mason's there."

"Right. Jim - you can stop looking for anything. Simon wants you back at the PD."

Carling, at least, was aware that the other Patrol officer had paused for a second, looking at Jim, before moving on out, and decided to have a quiet word with him before he and Blair also left.

"What?" In the absence of anything obvious, Jim had gone very deep.

"Mason's gone in to the PD, and Simon wants you back."

"Oh. Okay - I think I'm just wasting my time here anyway. Whoever it was didn't waste any time. Forensics might have picked up some fingerprints, but..."

"Nobody ever said you were infallible, Jim," Blair said quietly.

They went out, Jim and Joel heading back to the PD, while Carling led Blair over to the police car sitting opposite the shop door. The officer who had gone into the shop was speaking in an awed voice, and broke off as he saw Blair.

Carling said quietly, "And that's why Blair will be going back to Major Crime as soon as he passes the detective's exam."

The other two officers nodded, and Carling led Blair back to their car.

***

When Jim and Joel entered Major Crime, Rhonda called over to them. "Simon said to go straight in to him."

"Thanks, Rhonda."

Jim knocked on the office door and went straight in, Joel at his heels.

Two men were sitting opposite Simon. Jim instantly recognized Mason; the other was a youngster of about seventeen.

"Hello again, Detective," Mason said. "This is my grandson Terry. He has some possible information for you."

Jim smiled encouragingly at the young man, noting how nervous he appeared to be. "Yes, Terry? Anything you can tell us, anything at all, could be very useful."

"Two or three days ago... " He hesitated for a moment. "There's a sort of gang at school. Not the usual kind of gang - this is made up of guys from rich families - really rich families, and... You know how at school your friends are usually in the same class, or at least are about the same age?"

"Yes," Jim said.

"This lot - there are ten of them - the youngest is fourteen, the oldest eighteen. It's their money that's the common factor. They all seem to resent being in an 'ordinary' school, having to mix with guys whose fathers aren't filthy rich... so they don't 'mix', they stay in their little group of 'we're looking down on all you parasites who don't have money'.

"Their leader isn't actually the oldest one - it's one that's seventeen, in my class, and he's a real - " He broke off, obviously just stopping himself from uttering a word he was sure his grandfather wouldn't approve of. "I'm not sure that even his 'friends' like him. Anyway, two or three days ago, he was heard saying something about 'Getting back at Father for daring to criticize the grade I'd got' - we'd just been given our exam grades and Paul hadn't done well at all. Now I know that his father is one of Granddad's regular customers, and doing something to damage the shop would lose his father - "

He broke off as Simon's phone rang. Simon scowled at the interruption but picked up the phone. "Rhonda, I thought - oh. All right. Sandburg? What is it?" After a moment he glanced at Jim, who immediately listened in.

"... almost exactly the same kind of damage. Totally trashed. It couldn't have been done without a lot of noise, but there was nobody in the house between about 6.30 and 11 last night. Mr. and Mrs. Arkwright were at some sort of presentation, their son Paul was out with friends, the maid had gone to see her parents... It was the maid who discovered the damage this morning."

"Okay, I'll send Jim straight over." He hung up and looked at Jim. "934 Beech Grove," he said, then glanced at Terry. "What's Paul's second name?" he asked.

Neither he nor Jim was surprised when Terry answered, "Arkwright."

"Thanks."

As Jim turned to leave, he said, "Terry, could you give Captain Banks a list of the boys in Paul's 'gang'?"

"Yes, sir."

***

Jim pulled up behind the police car stopped in front of 934 Beech Grove - a house that made William Ellison's look like a peasant's hovel - and he and Joel walked quickly to the front door. A young woman opened it, and nodded when Jim showed her his badge.

She led them to a small study that looked surprisingly comfortable. Three men sat there - Blair, Carling, and an older man who had to be the owner of the house. There was an expression of firmly controlled anger on his face.

"Detective Ellison sir," Jim said, "and Captain Taggart."

"Officer Sandburg said you're the detective investigating an incident of vandalism at Mason's Models."

Arkwright clearly didn't believe in wasting any time in pleasantries.

"Yes, sir. I understand you've suffered some similar damage? May I see the room or rooms involved?"

Stewart Arkwright nodded and led the way out of the study. Jim followed, Joel at his heels, and Blair and Carling followed Joel.

Blair had been right. The room was totally destroyed. It looked as if a sledgehammer had been taken to the models, the shelves they had been on... the only difference was the absence of splattered paint and scattered small components. This had been a display of finished models, not a shop that provided parts to make models as well as the finished thing.

Jim moved forward and went carefully around the room. As with Mason's shop, nothing could be salvaged, and he could detect nothing that would help identify the culprit.

He nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you, sir. I do have a possible lead regarding the damage at Mason's Models - the same person or persons could have been responsible for the damage here. I need to go now and ask that lead a few questions."

"If you have a lead... do you know why John Mason and I have been targeted like this?"

"Only a suspicion for the moment, sir. As soon as I know anything definite, I'll be in touch."

Blair and Carling left the house with Jim and Joel. "Will you need me?" Blair asked.

"It wouldn't do any harm," Jim said. "We might be making an arrest."

***

Back at their vehicles, Jim nodded to Blair. "Phone Simon and ask for the list of names - and if possible the school they attend."

/Banks./

"Jim asked, did you get the names?"

/Yes./

Blair scribbled them down. "And do you know the school?"

/Cascade High./

"I get the feeling we're headed there. Thanks." He gave the list to Jim, and got in beside Carling. "I think our next stop is Cascade High."

***

At Cascade High, Jim led the way to the Principal's office.

Wayne Davis looked a little startled as the four cops entered. "What can I do for you?"

"I need to speak to at least one of your pupils, maybe more than one," Jim said. He handed over the list. "In the first instance, I want to see the youngest one on this list."

Davis glanced down it. "These are all the sons of very rich men," he said.

"I know," Jim said.

"If I let you speak to any of them without their parents' knowledge, and possibly a lawyer present... "

"I wouldn't ask to do so without you, at least, being present," Jim said. "But I'm acting on behalf of Stewart Arkwright... "

"Oh. In that case... " He reached for his phone; after a fairly quick exchange with his secretary, he said, "The youngest one on the list is Graham Inglis. I've asked my secretary to get him, bring him here."

"Thank you."

***

The knock on the door came two or three minutes later, and Davis called, "Come in!"

The door opened and a young teenager entered. There was a frightened look on his face, and it became more marked when he saw the two men in police uniforms. Jim smiled to himself while maintaining a rigid expression. Yes - this child's resistance was already broken.

"Mrs. Copeland said you wanted to see me, sir."

"I don't, Graham, the police do."

"Hello, Graham," Jim said, his voice brisk. "This is Captain Taggart, I'm Detective Ellison and these are Officers Carling and Sandburg." He didn't get the chance to say more.

"We... We didn't want to do it, sir, but P-Paul was determined, and you d-d-don't say 'no' to Paul."

"Paul Arkwright?" Jim asked.

"Y-y-yes."

"What did you do, and why was he determined?"

"We... smashed everything in a shop, then the next night smashed all Paul's father's collection of m-models. Paul... He said it would teach his father not to c-criticise him. That if his father was d-determined to send him to... " He looked at Davis. "None of the rest of us agreed with him, sir, but he called this an 'inferior' school. He said it wasn't his f-fault if he got a p-poor grade when he had to attend an inferior school."

"Why did he think it was 'inferior'?" Jim asked.

"He never said exactly, b-but he always said that having to m-mix with boys whose fathers w-weren't rich b-businessmen was d-demeaning. Not even H-Harry Wallace... his g-grandfather is Orville Wallace, and everyone knows how rich he is... but he's not a b-businessman, so Paul won't speak to Harry."

"But if none of you agree with him, why hang around with him?" Jim asked.

"We w-wouldn't, but you d-don't say no to Paul."

"All right, Graham, you've been very helpful - and I don't think Paul ever needs to know who spoke to us about this."

Davis nodded. "Detective Ellison is right. Now off you go, back to your class."

As the door closed behind the boy, his eyes met Jim's.

"I think we need to give Paul Arkwright a short, sharp lesson," he said.

"I would agree, but I think I need to speak to his father first."

Davis nodded. "You didn't say, before we met Inglis. But he said 'they' had smashed up a shop? What damage was caused?"

"Considerable. The model shop will need to be completely refurbished and totally restocked; Mr. Arkwright had a large collection of what I understand were working models, and these have all been completely destroyed and the room they were in will also need major work."

"And all because young Arkwright's father 'criticised him', according to young Inglis?"

"I suspect this will be one of those cases where the 'criminal' ends up in Conover," Jim said.

***

A quick phone call established that Stewart Arkwright had gone home, so Jim and Joel went to Beech Grove to see him.

"Have you discovered anything?" Arkwright asked as soon as the maid showed Jim and Joel into his study.

"I'm sorry," Jim said. "We have what amounted to a confession from one of the boys involved. He said none of them wanted to do it, but 'you don't say no to Paul'."

Arkwright nodded slowly. "His mother and I discovered that when he was just a toddler. He always reacted badly to being told 'no' even when it was for his own good. He attacked his mother when he was just three when she tried to stop him running onto the road; hurt her quite badly. I spanked him for it, and he attacked me the moment I'd turned my back to check up on her. I suppose after that... After that we did let him get away with pretty well everything... But he's gone too far this time. Detective, I want to you arrest him and let him see what life would be like in prison."

And so Jim arrested Paul Arkwright, giving him the 'glare of death' that had cowed even hardened criminals. Paul looked towards his father.

"Father? Will you allow this... this nobody to arrest me?"

"You went too far this time, Paul. I'm stopping your allowance until the damage to my hobby room is repaired. After that... we'll see."

"And Paul," Jim said quietly, "my father owns Ellison Enterprises. I chose a more active life than sitting behind a desk. Still think I'm a 'nobody'?"

"I hate you!" Paul spat. "I hate you all! HATE YOU!"

Stewart Arkwright watched as his son was dragged out to the police car Joel had summoned. "Maybe we should have persevered, back when he was three," he said sadly.

"I don't think it would have made any difference," Jim told him.

"He's mentally unbalanced, isn't he."

"I'm afraid so - and that being so, there wasn't much you could have done. He'll resist working with a psychiatrist, because a psychiatrist will be 'telling him what he should do'."

Arkwright sighed, then said, "I'm not planning on accusing the boys he bullied into helping him - they were probably afraid not to."

Jim nodded. "That was the impression I got."

Arkwright went on, "I contacted John Mason, told him I'd cover anything his insurance company didn't - I need him, his help, to restart my collection. Damned if I let Paul's bad temper win!"

Jim smiled as he and Joel left. Paul might very well end up in Conover - but he needn't expect his father to do anything to help him; and Jim was quite sure that the young man would spend the rest of his life there.

Funny how some people were completely amoral...

 


End file.
